


Wagner

by jasmiinitee



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Morse adopts a cat, That's it, everyone is worried for him, opera - Freeform, set vaguely during series 4, she's called Wagner because he's a nerd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmiinitee/pseuds/jasmiinitee
Summary: Humans are difficult, relationships with them even more so. He is so bad at voicing his feelings to anyone. A cosy night in with Wagner is so much easier, and he doesn't regret it at all.'So he hasn't told you anything about his... anything?' Fred asked Strange when they got to the station. He didn't have to mention names, they both knew who he was talking about.'Nah, got all huffy on Friday when I asked him over to pub,' Strange said and shook his head. Figured as much. 'And I'd say he's worse than usual. Not even Shirley asking him on the quiz team did it. Trewlove, I mean.'Fred let out a long sigh and nodded.'You tell me if he says anything, sergeant, all right?' he asked. Strange was a good lad too. He might get through Morse's walls enough to see if there was something to fear.'Yes, sir.'





	Wagner

**Author's Note:**

> I just think Morse should get a cat to aim all his love and extra nurturing tendencies to, since he's so crap at keeping up any emotional human connections. Hug your cat, dude, take it easy with the girls for once.

_“Free for a home.”_  
Didn’t even have to be a good one. He shouldn’t have stopped to look, never, but he did, and then he just couldn’t look away anymore.

Who did something like that, and on purpose? Who could ignore their own chosen responsibility so recklessly and cruelly, and just leave another living being behind like that? Maybe there was a chance at survival, for some, but not in an open plastic box during a flooding storm. Just sitting there, on the doorstep of an empty apartment.

Rain fell from the thick, grey blanket of autumn clouds with the volume of a river rapid. It hummed loudly over rooftops and pavement, the streets glistened, and with every hurried step Morse could feel another wet squelch inside his shoes. He hugged his arms closer and hummed softly under his breath to avoid brewing up any further panic between the lapels of his coat.  
‘It’s all right,’ he murmured under his breath. No reply came, and it was probably for the best, but he was still worried. There might not be anything he could do anymore.

It was hard to try and manoeuvre the door open with only one arm and another small soul squirming inside his raincoat. Still, it was a good thing that there really was squirming. It meant that there was still a small life under his arm when he shut the door and shrugged the jacket off.  
The unwashed shirt he’d left on the back of a chair made for a good enough makeshift towel. It wasn’t so important to have everything completely clean when hypothermia was a more likely devil, and when the poor abandoned thing was so dirty on her own. The closest warm thing that he had on hand was the scarf Monica had once got him. It had to do.

The kitten in his hands was sopping wet and too tired to even put up a fight when he pulled her out from where he’d kept her against his chest. Maybe his heartbeat had helped her stay still on their way home, but now that the dark warmth of his jacket was gone, she was kicking and putting up a fight. Mud-stained all over, little whiskers sticking out in all directions, shaking like a leaf in his hands.  
She was crying out loud, and whatever it was that had yanked on his heartstrings in the first place made him blink against his own tears. Or maybe it was still the rain. Morse wiped his own wet hair away from his eyes. When had he slept last? This wasn’t normal.

‘Shh, everything’s all right. Let’s just get you dry,’ he said and tucked the bundle of cat and cloth safely under his arm. He needed warm water to clean her better.  
She replied with more squeaks and wails, even smaller and more miserable.  
‘You’ll look smart in no time,’ Morse promised her.

\-- --- .-. .. .

It took some time, goading, thorough scrubbing, and a lot of soft words to reveal the kitten beneath the dirt. She bit his fingers in panic a few times - maybe his hands had been too rough, or maybe the splashes of water were too sudden - but by the time he started drying her fur, she was getting silent and sleepy. A little smoky-grey tabby girl. Barely even skin and bone, mostly just wet fur.

After cleaning the kitten up and letting her soak the shirt to dry her, Morse went back to hang his coat. He dried his hands and brewed himself some tea, and when he was still thinking about making something to eat, exhaustion hit him like a train. His arms were like lead and he was stuck staring at the kitten wrapped up in his yesterday’s shirt.  
She let out a sad and nervous meow, and looked a bit unsure whether to fall asleep or to start wandering around on the counter.  
‘Right,’ Morse agreed. ‘Come here.’  
_Tannhäuser_ was as good as anything for strange, rainy afternoons - it was just as dark and grey as needed, but still full of odd light. He held the kitten close to his chest to keep her warm, and tried to be more mindful of how roughly he handled her. 

The scratching of the needle, when he set the record on, made her twitch against his chest and grab onto his shirt with little claws like needles. He hushed her gently.  
‘It’s just Wagner,’ he explained and gave her a gentle scratch behind the ears, and slowly she settled again. Didn’t seem bothered by the first notes. Better probably to still keep the volume down.  
‘You should be glad I saved you,’ he told the cat. She snuggled closer to him, up his chest, but did so with an angry and confused little scream right into his ear. Didn’t seem to mind him all that much anymore, as long as his hands were warm, but didn’t seem very satisfied either. 

He sat down with her and pulled her gently off of his shirt. She protested loudly, but when he wrapped her loosely up in the warm scarf, she stilled. He petted the kitten’s tiny forehead carefully, looking at her white chin and big eyes, waiting for her to fall asleep. Hopefully she would.  
What did cats eat? Cat food, probably, but he had no idea how small a kitten was still in need of milk or something softer. Was cat food even any good? Maybe he’d ask around at the grocery shop when he went, they might have known where to find some small amounts of butcher’s leftovers for a bargain.  
He’d need a litter box, too. What else?

She yawned, all needle-sharp baby teeth on display. It looked a little funny to see such a gaping hell-maw open up from such a small and sad creature, and for a moment Morse thought of tigers. The set of paws clawing at his scarf was very small and disproportionate compared to a jungle beast, but maybe there was something that she had in common with her cousins, still. Some shadow in her grey stripes.  
‘No no, are you…?’ Morse felt his smile fall when the kitten started shuddering again. He was just about to unwrap her from the scarf and try to see what was wrong, when the trembling was followed by a small, high-pitched purr. She was purring. And she closed her eyes.  
For a few minutes Morse sat with the gently whirring thing in his arms. Then the kitten curled up into a little ball and her sound turned into the kind of soft, sleepy breathing that could only follow the end of what had been the hardest and strangest day of a horrible little life.

All right. Maybe he’d set her down somewhere after a minute or two, just to see if she’d really fall asleep or just nap. If she slept, he could run to the shops to get what he could on such a short notice, and try to take better care of her again in the evening when he got back.


End file.
